Take a Bow

but how can I possibly work on my self-confidence when I’ve got Mr. Six-Pack sitting across from me? Especially when the three people most important to me are clearly enamored of this Former Child Star?

I don’t say anything for the rest of lunch. Not when Carter breaks out a container full of chicken breast that serves as his entire meal. Not when I notice him looking at my cheeseburger and fries in envy. (At least I’ve got something over him; I got this “body” by stuffing my face with junk food, so he can just suck on that.) Not when Emme fills him in on our senior thesis. And especially not when Jack invites him to our rehearsal this weekend at my apartment.

I don’t say a word.

And nobody seems to notice. Or care.

I’m ready to put this miserable day behind me when Emme approaches me with a smile on her face.

I smile back at her until she says, “Don’t hate me.” She pulls out The Calendar. I see Jack walking over, but as soon as he sees the all-too-familiar binder, he heads for the door.

“Jack’s walking away.” I rat him out.

Emme sprints to grab Jack, and he gives me the look of death as she drags him over.

“Come on, guys,” she says, “this semester is going to be extremely complicated with college auditions, the senior thesis, and the showcase. We’ve got to figure everything out.”

She opens up the color-coded weekly calendar that contains her academic assignments, her practice pieces, the band’s schedule, and all the deadlines to pretty much everything on earth. She refuses to put it on her phone. She also writes out all her music. Pretty much everybody in class uses computers to record or write songs. But Emme uses good old paper and pencil.

It’s so old-school. It’s also utterly endearing.

I love that she still does it, especially after us picking on her about it since freshman year. I’d hate for her to change that or anything else about her. Except for her opinion about me — that I’d love to change.

She starts quizzing us on our schedules, assignments, and projects so she can figure out a practice schedule for the band.

I may be the front man, Jack may be the charisma, Ben may be the soul, but Emme is the heart of the band.

I think back to the time when I realized how much we needed her. How much I needed her. It was the first official fight of the band. And, of course, I was the reason for it.

Besides being the front man, I’m the pain in the ass of the band.

Our first few performances freshman year went okay. The sound was fine — only I was having some problems being the proper “leader” of the band. I thought I was walking into a rehearsal, but I was mistaken.

I could immediately tell by the silence that greeted me when I entered the room that something was wrong.

“We’ve got to talk.” Jack gestured to the seat next to him.

I stayed standing.

Jack didn’t seem surprised. “Okay, so no offense.”

Generally speaking, when somebody starts a sentence with “no offense,” what follows is something that you will take offense at.

“I mean, you know we all love you,” Jack continued, only further delaying this awkward intervention.

I studied Ben to see if I could get a hint of what was going on, but he was just giving me a slight smile. I could tell he was smiling so the guilt wouldn’t completely ooze off his face. Emme was worse. She was looking down at the ground; she wouldn’t even look at me. She seemed even more uncomfortable than I was. And I had thought that was humanly impossible.

“Can you just get it over with?” I said with an even tone.

Jack continued to be the spokesperson of the group. “Look, you’re an amazing musician and songwriter; I mean, it kills me that you’re so talented.” Now I was the one looking down at the floor. “Thank God I have the looks, because that just wouldn’t be fair.” Once again, Jack tried to lighten the mood. “It’s just that … when you’re onstage, you look miserable. You don’t move around, you don’t engage the audience, you just close your eyes and sing. We need you to be more of a … front man.”

“Why do I have to be the front man?”

Jack threw his hands up. “Ah, because you’re the lead singer.”

“But that doesn’t mean I have to be the one to always speak?”

Jack looked at Ben and Emme. “Yeah, it does.”

“There are plenty of examples of bands that —”

Jack wouldn’t even let me finish. “We don’t really need a lesson on Rock Groups 101. It makes the most sense and, to be honest, you never freeze up like that when we rehearse.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe it is a little intimidating to have to talk in front of a crowd? How would you like to have all that attention on you?”

“I’d love it.”

“Then you do it.”

“I can’t really warm up the crowd when I’m behind my kit.”

My stomach started to churn. I loved playing, I loved the band, but when I was onstage, I felt self-conscious. All eyes were on me while I sang. I felt this undeniable weight on my shoulders … and a little stupid.

“Emme should be the lead singer.”

Emme finally looked up at me. The expression on her face reminded me of one of those girls in a slasher flick who’s about to be stabbed by a serial killer. “I can’t sing,” she protested.

“You can sing,” I argued. “You just choose not to.” She lowered her head again.

Jack came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Look, you’re the best singer in the group. If you maybe opened your eyes every once in a while, you’d see that the girls in the audience like what they’re hearing. Don’t even pretend that you haven’t noticed that you’ve gotten more attention since you first sang in the Freshman Focus Showcase. Tell him, Red.”

Emme’s mouth dropped open. “Why would I know if girls have been talking to Ethan? And, um, aren’t we getting a little off track here?”

Thinking back to right after the showcase, I realized I had gotten more attention from girls. Kelsey had become really jealous, but I’d assumed it was from meeting Emme. She never liked the fact that there was a girl in our band, especially after she saw what Emme looked like.

Now there was an uncomfortable silence. I knew everybody was waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t see how I was supposed to magically become this outgoing person onstage. I didn’t even feel comfortable talking in class, so I was sure the attention I received after the concert was from people who’d thought I was mute.

Jack was glaring at Emme, motioning for her to say something. She let out a deep sigh and stood up.

Her face matched the color of her hair. She closed her eyes and nodded to herself, her lips moving slightly. I tried to not smile; I knew exactly what was going on in her mind. I’d seen her do it a hundred times all semester. Usually she was trying to come up with a new lyric, but I wasn’t sure what was about to come out of her mouth would be music to my ears.

She opened her eyes and approached me. She looked back at Jack and then crouched down so we were at eye level. “Ethan,” she whispered so nobody else could hear, “did I ever tell you what I thought when I first heard you sing?” She didn’t pause, as we both knew the answer to that. “I felt like I heard you for the first time. That your singing voice is your true voice. I was blown away with how strong and warm it is, like I was being wrapped up in a cozy blanket. I could never do what you do, and I don’t know how Sophie does it, either. But the thing is, I get the same feeling when I’m onstage with you that I do when I’m onstage with her. I don’t get as nervous, because we’re in it together and everything will turn out okay.”

She got up and sat back down. Her eyes went back to the floor.